Agents: Sorry
by Stormhawk
Summary: Remember the rebel Greer saw in the beginning of You May Dream? This is his story. Ficlet.


Title: Sorry  
  
Author: Stormhawk  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: This all belongs to The Wachowski Brothers and Warner Brothers. And the Agents, don't forget the agents. Greer and Ice belong to Mordax though his name was never actually mentioned in YMD.  
  
Notes: Companion piece to Mordax's You May Dream. Remember the rebel that Greer saw that gave him his power? This is his story. Or his death anyway.  
  
Word Count: 650  
  
Summary: A rebel runs from an agent and reconsiders everything. Short companion piece to You May Dream.  
  
Please Read and Review.  
  
My name is Ice, I had a real name once but I haven't used it for years, not since I've been freed.  
  
Freed from what you may ask. The truth is stranger than any fiction, the world is nothing but a computer program, hard to believe right? You can trust that it's the real deal, dying men rarely lie.  
  
Not that I'm sick or anything, my life is going to be over in a few seconds.  
  
You see, there is an agent chasing me. You've probably seen them before, guys in suits - they look like they could work for the FBI or CIA, earpieces and the whole deal.  
  
But they aren't real, they're just programs, policing the system that they are a part of, they try to crush the resistance. Or, as they call us - the rebellion.  
  
We are rebels, rebelling against a lie - trying to free minds. Maybe it's pointless, I don't know anymore.  
  
The exit, the way out of this world isn't that far, maybe I can make it.  
  
Maybe not.  
  
Sometimes, you just know something. I knew that there was something wrong with this world, which led me to find the truth. I wonder what had happened if I'd taken the blue pill.  
  
Everyone, even the best captains have probably thought about that at least once.  
  
Not that I regret it, of course - I am thankful that I didn't live my entire life in ignorance. The ignorance that the billions of people in this digital world live in.  
  
Anyway - back to what I know now. I know that I'm going to die. I'm running as fast as I can but I know I'm not going to make it.  
  
There are so many things that I'm sorry about.  
  
I'm sorry I pulled my little sister's hair.  
  
I'm sorry I kicked our dog.  
  
I'm sorry that I stole that car when I was fifteen and crashed it.  
  
I'm sorry for running away to the real world and never saying goodbye to my family.  
  
Damn, he's so close now.  
  
Run, Ice run.  
  
Running into the alley toward my escape, I have one more thing to be sorry for. I just knocked some poor comic-book reading kid down onto his butt.  
  
Kid, whoever you are if I'd had the time I would have helped you up.  
  
But I'm out of time.  
  
God, not that there is a god but still, I'm going to die in trashy black clothing. I never even wore a lot of black before leaving the matrix. It was something that I've learned to do, adjusting to their ways in the real world.  
  
They have helped to change my values.  
  
It is a war but still I never wanted to be a killer.  
  
I know that every time I, or any other resistance member manages to shoot an agent that some innocent human dies.  
  
I'm not sure that that fact bothers most of my crew anymore.  
  
I want to go back, I want to forget everything that this war has made me do. I want to wake up in my house again, in a warm bed.  
  
I know it's a dream.  
  
You do know that I wouldn't be having these thoughts if I had half a chance of making it to that exit.  
  
Flicking my head around I saw two things, one was the kid picking himself up and brushing off his comic, the second was the agent hot on my heels.  
  
Turning and fighting it for a few seconds I turned. The phone was on the fourth level of the building before me. Jumping up thirty feet I grabbed the ledge of the fourth-floor verandah.  
  
Maybe I'm going to make it.  
  
Then I heard the safety of a gun come undone, looking up I saw the nameless agent looking down at me. He smiled grimly and fired.  
  
I knew I wasn't going to make it.  
  
The End. 


End file.
